The Prince & the Pregnant Princess. Susan Mallery
“They were an expression of my honor at the treasure being offered.”
Cleo had to turn that sentence over a couple of times before it made anything close to sense. By treasure did he actually mean sex? “In case you hadn’t noticed, I wasn’t a virgin. There wasn’t any treasure involved. Which you knew, by the way, because we talked about it before we—”
He kissed her. Cleo was unprepared, and Sadik moved so quickly she didn’t have any warning. One second she’d been talking and the next, he took her in his arms and drew her close.
The feel of his strong body against her own caused all the air to rush from her lungs. She gasped to catch her breath, which left her vulnerable. At least, that’s what she told herself when she decided not to put up a struggle as his mouth settled on hers.
It had been too long, she thought hazily, caught in the grip of instant and mind-numbing passion. Every nerve in her body caught fire as sensual heat rushed through her, making her want to tear off her clothes and have him touch her everywhere.
He settled his mouth more firmly on hers, then ran his tongue across her lower lip. Shivers raced up and down her arms. Her extrasensitive breasts swelled uncomfortably. All this and he hadn’t even put his tongue in her mouth. She didn’t think she would be able to stand that.
He read her mind, she thought, both aroused and distressed as he swept into her mouth. At the first touch she knew she was lost. The familiar pattern of their intimate dance came back to her in a heartbeat. Remembered passion joined present passion, combining, growing, making her strain toward him.
She clung to his broad shoulders, then, unable to help herself, ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair. She could inhale the scent of his body, feel his heat, his arousal. The thought of him being inside of her nearly made her weep with desire.
When he put his hands on her hips, she felt herself drifting away. In a matter of seconds she would be lost. He deepened his kiss as he drew his hands higher, to her waist and up to her rib cage.
Several thoughts flashed through Cleo’s mind at once. That she couldn’t emotionally risk giving herself to him again. That if he touched her too much, he might figure out the differences in her body. After all, he’d spent hours learning every inch of her to a level of detail that had left her weak and breathless. That her hormones were doing their thing and she was about forty-five seconds away from a sobbing meltdown.
None of the possibilities made her feel safe, so she forced herself to pull away.
Sadik’s breathing was as rapid as her own. She was gratified to see the fire of need burning in his dark eyes. At least the wanting hadn’t been all one-sided. Neither of them said anything. She suspected they were both waiting for the other person to speak first. She knew he was strong enough to outwait her, although she gave the staring contest a try.
“I’m not doing this,” she said at last when it became apparent they could be at it all night. “The only reason I’m here is that my sister is getting married. If you have an itch, I suggest you could find someone else who’s actually interested to scratch it for you.”
The implication that she wasn’t interested was an outright lie, but tough times called for tough measures.
Passion faded from his eyes as anger took its place. He didn’t say a word, instead he turned on his heel and stalked away. Cleo slumped against the railing and tried to calm her heart rate. She would say that round had been a draw, which was unfortunate. She really needed a win. She also needed to stay out of trouble.
Instinctively she placed a hand on her stomach. It wasn’t Sadik’s fault that she was still crazy about him. But regardless of her feelings, she didn’t dare give in. The last thing in the world she wanted was for him to find out the truth.
Cleo didn’t fall asleep before dawn, so it was nearly ten when she finally stumbled out of bed and into her shower. An hour later she was “taking breakfast” on the balcony outside of her room.
Everyone should start their day this way, she thought happily. Sunlight burned away the shadows from last night. She felt confident there wouldn’t be any interruptions from a certain handsome prince because he would have long since started his day, leaving her free to admire the view and enjoy her breakfast.
As she’d already thrown up twice, she was ravenous. Warm scones, fruit and herbal tea tempted her appetite. She leaned back in her chair and sighed with contentment. There were moments when it was good to be a guest of the royal family. The food was delicious, the view incredible and for once her morning sickness hadn’t left her feeling too shaky. Actually the morning episodes were the easiest. The ones that struck later in the day left her feeling as if she’d just gone five rounds with a stubborn strain of the flu.
A small price to pay, she thought as she picked up a strawberry and took a bite. At least it was getting better. In the beginning she’d tossed her cookies nearly—
“Good morning.”
Cleo glanced up, then quickly sprang to her feet. She swallowed a sudden case of nerves and tried to smile. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she said to the king of Bahania.
King Hassan smiled and motioned to the small table the servants had set up for her. “Are you enjoying your breakfast?”
“Yes. Very much. I overslept. Jet lag, I guess.”
Hassan nodded. When he didn’t keep on walking, Cleo figured this wasn’t a morning constitutional. He must have a purpose. She cleared her throat. “Ah, Zara is getting a final fitting on her gown. She should be back in an hour or so.”
Hassan motioned to one of the chairs, as if asking permission to join her. Cleo nodded vigorously, feeling like one of those little dogs people put in the back of their cars.
“Please,” she said, then fumbling when he paused, as if waiting for her to sit first.
Was she allowed to be seated when he was standing? she wondered. Life was difficult when all her royal training came from umpteen viewings of the movie The King and I. It’s not as if members of the royal family frequently crowded into her small apartment kitchen.
She finally plunked herself down on her chair and passed a plate of scones. The king took a seat, but declined the scones.
“Please continue with your breakfast,” Hassan said as he reached for her pot of tea and poured himself a cup. “How was your trip to Bahania?”
“Long, but otherwise pretty fabulous.” She spread jam on her scone. “I really appreciate the use of the family jet. It was a whole lot nicer than my first trip here.”
“Not so many people?”
“Exactly.”
“I am glad the jet could be of use to you.” He smiled kindly.
Cleo ignored a twinge of envy. This man was Zara’s father. Cleo was less impressed by the fact that he was a king than that he cared about finding his daughter after not knowing about her for twenty-eight years. Not many men would have been so open and excited at the prospect of a new family member. Still, if good fortune was going to happen to someone, she was glad it was Zara.
“We are happy you have come for the wedding,” the king said.
“I wanted to be here.” It was only half a lie, Cleo thought.
Hassan smiled. “Zara’s happiness would not be complete without the presence of her beloved sister.”
Hassan was just a tad under six feet, with graying hair and strong, handsome features. Cleo could see the family resemblance in his sons and daughters. They were all tall, dark and very good-looking. She, on the other hand, was a short, round, baby-chick blonde with blue eyes and a slight inclination to chubby thighs.
“Your Highness, Zara means the world to me, but you must know we’re not actually sisters.”
The king patted her hand. “You are sisters of the